


I'm already gone

by ItsAWonderfulLife



Series: Merlin Bingo 2021 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Chapter 7 he's coming back y'all, Don't worry, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, He misses Arthur a lot, I knew I couldn't keep this angsty, I might throw in a happy ending for like Ending Pt. 2, M/M, Merlin Bingo 2021, Merlin just needs a hug dammit, Merlin's all broody and stuff in the first chapter, Multichapter First Attempt Ever, TEMPORARY I PROMISE, Temporary Character Death, Wonder Woman 1984 AU, rejected proposal, temporary mcd, we all do boi pls get on with returning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAWonderfulLife/pseuds/ItsAWonderfulLife
Summary: I watched Wonder Woman 1984 and decided to make it Merthur so y'all can suffer with me. Bon appétit.Combining several chapters with my Merlin Bingo prompts.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Bingo 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119725
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34
Collections: Merlin Bingo





	1. wish we had more time

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own BBC's Merlin or DC's Wonder Woman 1984 (god I wish), although I'd like to talk to those who do own both of them because they made me cry a LOT. I'm also not affiliated with either of them in any way. They don't endorse my work. Wish they would. 
> 
> Gal Gadot if you ever read this and know you inspired me to write Merthur fanfiction, know that you own my heart and soul.
> 
> Chapter 1 is Square #M1 of my Merlin Bingo - 'Flashbacks'

Merlin hasn’t been back to the Lake of Avalon since the 1700s. He breathes in the air, allows it to fill his lungs, lets the emotions flood into his old and weary heart. He is old now, he’s turning one thousand, five hundred and something at some point next week. The peasantry had no awareness of birthdays in Camelot, and he finds he doesn’t care now that there is nobody left for him to celebrate with. Once in Camelot, Gwen surprised him with a birthday cake around the approximate anniversary of his birth.

_"Blow on the candle, Merlin! If the tallow falls on the cake, it will be ruined!" she urged, pressing on his shoulder, encouraging him to blow out the light._

_Instead, he focused on how it caused spots of light to dance around her twinkling eyes, crinkled with joy. Morgana had been with them, holding his arm on his other side, bouncing up and down slightly._

_"Come **on,** Merlin!" they prodded. _

_He blew out the candle, not knowing what to wish for when he was already the happiest he had ever been._

The trees flutter gently, branches swaying in the breeze and covering the lake with a sprinkling of leaves, turned brown in their old age. Merlin envies them their mortality. He has grown tired, and with that fatigue has come a bitterness, and a bone-deep loneliness. Above all the faces he misses, all the souls his heart yearns to see once more, there is one he would give the whole world to see again. Especially now.

He has tried to fall in love with others, has tried to make it work. These pursuits have often come with little success, but this time he was to be married, and he had even felt something reminiscent of happiness. It wasn’t quite there, but it was something similar. Alas, he stands here now, his engagement broken off and his heart once more in tatters, torn to pieces once more by the knowledge that it will eternally belong to another.

“I wish we’d had more time.”

Whispering it into the wind feels like sharing the deepest secret hidden within the darkest crevices of his heart. There is nobody here to see him. Avalon is hidden now, except to him. He placed a magical protective shield around it many years ago, seeing the way industrialisation was spreading across the countryside nearby. Camelot was lost to invaders during one of the many centuries he spent as a tree, unable to face the heavy burden of his human heart, but he would be damned if he didn’t protect Avalon. He crouches down, allowing his fingers to skim the surface of the cool water, and reflecting, for the first time, on his failed engagement.

_“I- I don’t understand,” Matthew said, clutching the ring like a lifeline, “I thought we were happy. You were happy, I know you were happy. Why- what’s going on?”_

_“Matthew,” Merlin sighed, folding Matthew’s fingers around the ring he had placed in his palm mere seconds ago, and firmly pushing the hand away from him, “you know I could never be right for you. You had to know this wouldn’t last. It’s not you, it’s-”_

_“Don’t!” snapped Matthew. “Are you really going to end things with an age-old cliché? Do I not at least deserve the truth?”_

_“I- there- okay. Fine. You might want to sit down. It’s a long story, and I don’t think you’ll believe me. If you do believe me, you might call some dangerous people to try to have me put in a museum or something…”_

_“What?”_

_“Never mind. But just- I’ve never told anyone about all this. I need you to know it’s true, and that the problem really is me, not you. I need you to try to believe me.”_

_“Try me,” Matthew nodded grimly, straightening his shoulders, “I promise I’ll listen.”_

_And so, they sat, for many hours, while Merlin told Matthew the story of his life, the story of Arthur, his one great love, the story of how he was immortal and eternally condemned to carry on in this world with half his heart intact, and the other half buried at the bottom of a lake. He cried properly for the first time in a long time, and Matthew held him, wiping his eyes with a tissue and whispering words of comfort throughout. When he was finally done, Matthew hugged him once, and told him his secret was safe, and that he would never tell a soul._

_“Thank you,” Merlin sniffled, “for everything. Really. You’re an amazing person and you’re going to make someone so happy.”_

_“I know,” Matthew agreed, grinning at him, “and I really hope the dragon was right. I hope he comes back. You deserve happiness, Merlin. I hope you find it.”_

_They had lunch and discussed the practicalities of Merlin moving back to his cottage in England. England was such a foreign name on his tongue, even after all this time, and his heart knew this place to be Albion. When they had finished, they said their final goodbyes, and promised to write to each other occasionally. Merlin left New York with a weight lifted from his shoulders, but another, much more ancient one heavy in his heart._

He blinks out of his reverie, stroking his hand through the gentle lapping of the water ripples. The wind seems to dance around him, providing the hug he longs for deep in his bones.

_“Just hold me.”_

If Arthur were here now, he would hold him forever, and never let him go. He doesn’t know when he started crying but slowly, think, hot tears roll down his cheeks, splashing into the fresh water of the lake, creating tiny little ripples of their own. He has saved this world so many times over, racing against time again and again to save people who will never thank him or even know what he did for them. He has diverted asteroids and nuclear weapons, has stopped international wars, has fought tirelessly against humanity’s hubris and selfishness. He has never once wished for anything in return, except for this. Only ever this.

“Please,” he whispers, choking on a sob, “if he is out there, and you have the power to bring him back to me, please. Please. Just- please bring him back to me. I want more time. I _need_ more time.”

With a heavy sigh, and freezing cold hands, he stands, heading home to his cottage. 


	2. anything you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin makes tea and toast and is just grumpy on main with his cat mug, Ralph. Someone might be coming back at the end of this chapter. Merlin Bingo Square #C5 - Slice of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... still don't own any of these BBC or DC characters or franchises. Tragique.

He wakes to find the cold has got into his old bones, and grumbles to himself as he mutters a few words to rejuvenate them, catching the flash of gold in the mirror reflection of his own eyes.

“Wonderful, another day,” he groans, and rolls out of bed.

The world hasn’t changed. Nothing seems different, and he tries to tell himself he’s not disappointed, that he hadn’t felt a brief sense of hope last night as he’d closed his eyes to sleep. Of course nothing has changed. He stumbles to the kitchen, flicking the button on the kettle and absentmindedly pulling his favourite mug from the cupboard. It has a chip on the base of the handle, and he has to be careful not to cut himself on the jagged edges, but it’s shaped like a cat and it’s the tackiest thing he’s ever owned. He bought it in the 1970s. He named it Ralph.

Ralph’s faded green eyes bore into his soul as he pours himself a cup of Earl Grey, and shoves some bread in the toaster. It patronises him every morning with its four slots, and he regrets buying it each time he sees it. It’s just another wonderful reminder that he’s eternally alone, and that Arthur will never come back. Oh, the depressing mood has started early this morning then, he thinks, and hunts through the fridge for his Flora Plant Goodness. He chuckles to himself, imagining how Arthur would react to the concept of veganism.

“But where’s the meat?” he would ask, thoroughly scandalised.

Closing his eyes against a wave of grief, Merlin grips the countertop harshly, his knuckles almost white. It should be easier by now. He finds, however, that a millennium and a half of waiting has only provided a millennium and a half’s worth of pining. Grudgingly fighting against the hollow feeling in his chest, he spreads the dairy free butter and his fancy rose-flavoured jam he picked up in New York’s _Ladurée_ store. He doesn’t think the store itself is anywhere near as nice as the Paris stores, but the jam is the same, and it adds a layer of frivolity to his morning routine of pathetic wallowing.

Technically, he runs a bookshop, but he closed it down for a while during his engagement with Matthew, when he decided to fly out to New York to be with him. Foolish optimism really, if he’s being honest with himself. He knew from the beginning it could never work, but part of him craved a sense of belonging, a sense of _home,_ and he naively allowed himself to look for that in other people. There could never be another home for him. Arthur _was_ his home. Munching on his toast, he decides he’ll reopen on the bookshop next week. He carried on paying the lease during his time in New York, and everything is still the same as he left it, all set up and ready to run as a semi-functioning business.

Suddenly, everything stops, and he drops his mug on the table as a shooting spark of something runs all the way through him. It feels like an electric shock but _good_ somehow, and he can feel his fingers tingling, the sensation running all the way through to his extremities. It’s as though the world is tilted on its side, shifted somehow, and then all of a sudden it slots back together with a _pop_ and he can feel his own pulse pounding in his ears. Thanking whatever deities may be out there that he drinks tea quickly and that his cup was empty when he dropped it, he picks it up, assessing it for further damage and finding none. Tenderly, he puts Ralph into the washing-up bowl.

He jolts at a loud bang on the front door to the cottage, followed by a series of repetitive thuds and a deep voice shouting, “Hello? Is anyone in there? I’m lost and I don’t know exactly where I am or what I’m doing here…”

Merlin’s breath hitches. That voice. It couldn’t be. He hasn’t had dreams like this since the 1300s, when he was poetic and tortured and depressed, just woken up from his time as a tree and suffering through the delights of being human with a renewed sense of self-pity. He trips over his own feet, stumbling toward the door and fumbling with the key. He yanks it open, and gasps when he sees the head of blonde hair, the drenched chainmail, that _face._

“Merlin?” Arthur splutters. “What are you doing _here_? What’s going on?”

“Ar-Arthur,” he manages, the words wrenched from the bottom of his heart, before he collapses into the man’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder and feeling the warmth of his breath on his neck. Barely a moment later, Arthur sighs, giving in and allowing his arms to come up to wrap around Merlin’s waist, drawing him tighter into the hug, and soaking the entirety of his pyjama top. Merlin doesn’t have it in him to care about that.

“Merlin,” Arthur presses, mumbling against Merlin’s cheek, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Merlin chokes out a pained laugh, somehow finding the strength to draw back from the hug. He wipes at his eyes and his mess of a nose with the edge of his pyjama sleeve.

“You were dead,” he rasps, and Arthur flinches back, uncomprehending, “for over one and a half thousand years.”

Arthur’s eyes widen, and he steps back as though hit with a physical force.

“No,” he gasps, “that’s not- no, that- I can’t be- what?”

“It’s true,” Merlin sighs, rubbing his forehead, where he can feel the delightful beginnings of a new headache forming. This one seems pretty justified in its arrival though, so he tries to resist glaring at the thought.

“I missed you,” he offers, and grabs for Arthur’s arm, pulling him closer.

“Oh gods,” Arthur breathes, a look of horror flitting across his face, “you’ve been here- _alone_? This whole time?”

He nods, unable to form the words, emotions forming in his throat.

“ _Merlin.”_

“I love you. I told you I’d wait for you. I told you I would never forget-”

He’s pulled into a hug which soaks him to the bone and lets himself sag into the willing arms of his beloved. Despite the impeding risk of hypothermia, he finds himself warmer than ever in the biting cold of late autumn. 


	3. the whole world at your fingertips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets educated through books. Merlin drinks more tea. They're in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own BBC's or DC's characters or franchises. Still sad about it.

Merlin wakes with a jolt that first morning, and his bleary eyes blink open in surprise at the heat pressed along his front. He is met with the sight of golden strands of hair and discovers that his arm is wrapped securely around a mass of sleeping Arthur. Taking a steadying breath and closing his eyes briefly against the warmth in his own heart, he gives himself a few moments to appreciate the fact that it wasn’t a dream, Arthur was _here,_ he has come back to him, he’s alive.

Carefully, he unpicks himself from their intricate tangle of limbs, taking great care to not wake up Arthur, and heads into the kitchen. He waves a hand at the kettle to switch it on from across the room and turns to the television. There’s a new wave of a dangerous disease in Australia, it would seem, and he pulls the bread from the breadbin with a grim look on his face. He hates plagues. Plagues are the one disaster he can’t prevent. His healing magic has always been dreadful, and he’s taken years to learn how stop his bones from stiffening under the weight of a millennium and a half of wear and tear. He can’t help them. It’s too much. With a frown, he turns to the kettle, which should just be about finished- it’s off. How strange. He sighs and throws out another wave of light household magic to turn it on. This time, it works. Dismissing the thought, he goes hunting for Earl Grey again.

When half an hour has passed and he has done nothing but twitch anxiously about the man in his bedroom, there’s a rustling noise and the man in question emerges, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. It’s sickeningly adorable, and Merlin’s annoyed by it. Arthur blinks once then beams at him, his smile slowly lighting up his whole face. He wanders over and wraps loving arms around his manservant, whispering words of affection in his ear.

“I thought I was dreaming,” he confesses, sitting down in Merlin’s lap while the sorcerer's tentative arms come up to hold him in place, “I thought I was still d-”

“Don’t,” Merlin pleads, pained, “please. You’re here. You’re alive.”

Arthur sighs. “I still don’t understand _how._ But yes. I’m alive. And you,” he nuzzles gently at Merlin’s ear, and delights in the ticklish yelp it provokes, “need to tell me all about this mysterious place.”

“Were the self-cleaning chamber pots and the ‘magical’ bathtub not enough for you, sire?” Merlin quips, smirking down at his lover and running a gentle hand through his dishevelled mop of hair.

“No,” Arthur pouts, “they weren’t. I want to know more. What is _that_?”

He’s pointing at the television, Merlin notes with a groan, wondering how to even begin to explain the technological advancement since the early Middle Ages. At that point, he remembers he owns a bookshop.

“Do you want to come to my bookshop? We can find you some books that will explain it all. I think I have a spell that can translate the books into Old Brittonic for you if necessary-”

“What are these words? I don’t understand,” Arthur huffs, frustrated.

“Come on, you prat. Let’s get you dressed. We’re going on an adventure.”

This seems to be a much more effective way to deal with his stroppy king, and he finds himself meandering down into the nearest town, _Glastonbury_ the residents call it, to open up his semi-abandoned business.

“Why is it all dusty?” Arthur coughs, waving away a cloud of the offending material and barging through to front desk.

“I closed it for a while. I was- I was betrothed. To someone who lived far away. I was going to sell it, but something just- I don’t know, something stopped me. Something felt wrong.”

Arthur’s staring at him, he realises, eyes wide.

“You were _engaged_?” he gasps, seemingly appalled by the idea.

“You were dead! And married! And dead!” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest defensively and chucking the keys down on the desk.

Fury chases across Arthur’s face, quickly replaced by something more painful, something like remorse.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” he whispers, and the fight seems to drop out of him. “I don’t want you to hold yourself back from your life. If-” he swallows painfully before continuing, “if I’m too late, and this betrothal is still something you wish to honour, I won’t stand in your way. I understand.”

Merlin snorts ungracefully, and pulls his ridiculous lover into his arms, tracing across his worried face with loving hands.

“Shut up, Arthur,” he mumbles, brushing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I called off the engagement. I couldn’t honour any vows committing me to someone else when,” he bites his lip, flushing with embarrassment, “there has only ever been one person on this earth for me.”

Arthur shakes his head, wanting to fight the statement, but Merlin shushes him with another tender kiss.

“Now,” he announces, “books! Let’s start with the Middle Ages, because that’s where you uh- left off, and we’ll take it from there.”

Arthur groans dramatically, but Merlin ignores his protests in favour of chanting a few chosen words to translate the texts into the Old Language. It doesn’t work. He blinks. He must be feeling unwell today. His magic doesn’t normally play up like this. He whispers the words a second time, much more quietly, not wanting Arthur to see his failure. It works this time, and Merlin watches, entranced, as the words snake across the page, transforming into a language he hasn’t read in the longest time. Something deep in his soul aches, and he blinks back the beginnings of tears. There was enough crying last night, he decides, and he doesn’t want to waste more time on it now that Arthur’s back.

“Here you go,” he grins, dumping the whole pile into Arthur’s arms and heading into the back to organise his long-neglected affairs.

The glare Arthur gives him stays with him for the rest of the morning, leading to several impromptu bouts of gleeful cackling from the back office.


	4. fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets acquainted with the new world. Something continues to be wrong with Merlin's magic. The plague spreads to other continents.
> 
> If you're still with me at this point, thank you and I'm sorry and I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Wonder Woman 1984 or Merlin, or any of these characters. Still wish I did. Still a broke student.
> 
> Cheekily filling in my Merlin Bingo Square #C4 'Aliens' with this chapter :)

It takes a week for Arthur to learn the history of all that has come to pass since his death. It takes him six and a half days before he learns about the 1969 moon landing, and makes it very much Merlin's problem.

"But how do they make this _rocket_ fly, Merlin?" he whines, flopping dramatically across the sofa in the corner of the bookshop. 

"I don't know, Arthur. It's science stuff."

"I think it's magic," he declares, a suspicious glint in his eye. "I think they made magic metal birds and you're just refusing to tell me about them. This Scheele man said humans need oxygen to breathe, and these books say there's no oxygen in space. Yet these people went to space in... 1969? So how is that possible?"

Merlin sighs, letting his head fall forward onto the desk and giving up on opening up the shop that day. It's the Winter Solstice tomorrow, so that should bring in some tourists. For now, he has the more pressing issue of a bored and inquisitive king, and he doesn't have all the answers. Throughout his very long life, he has never explored any sciences outside of his training as a physician in the early 500s, which he struggles to believe would hold up in a modern hospital. He has dedicated himself wholeheartedly to the arts, working alongside incredible literary figures, historians, sculptors, artists and musicians. Mozart was a dear friend during his time in Austria, and he was propositioned by Sartre and de Beauvoir during his years in his mouldy little bohemian studio in Paris. Science though, science puzzled him. It was nothing like magic, this type of science. It dealt with what was beyond the world, and for a magic as elemental as Merlin's, that wasn't the most comfortable idea.

Arthur sighed again, pouting at him from under thick eyelashes. "I just want to understand."

"Ugh, fine. Okay. Leicester is about three hours drive from here, are you going to be okay with that?" he asked, reflecting on the first time Arthur rode in the car. He was paler than the white tunic of his that Merlin missed so much. It was only eight o'clock in the morning, they could make a day of it.

Huffing indignantly, his king queried, "And what's in Leicester, pray tell?"

"The Space Centre."

Arthur beamed. 

* * *

If he never lives another day, he'll be fine with that, because he can now take with him the picture of Arthur's delight while looking at rockets. It's infectious. As they wander through the Space Oddities section, Arthur turns to him, eyes wide and full of excitement.

"So, why are they exploring? What exactly are they searching for?" he asks, with all the energy of a five year old who's just learned the question "why". 

"I suppose- I mean, probably new planets, the materials they're made of, what's out there. If there's any other life in the universe maybe."

"Life?" Arthur raises his eyebrows, prodding gleefully at the interactive screens.

"Aliens," Merlin informs him, shuffling up to rest his head on the smaller man's shoulder, hugging him from behind. 

"Aliens?"

"Yes. Aliens. We haven't found any yet. At least, I don't think we have. But many people believe they're out there, and some people, especially near my cottage, believe they've already been to earth. There are lots of movies about them."

Arthur's face lights up at the mention of movies. He loves movies. He loves the television and the moving pictures and the 'magical' effects. He has accused Merlin of editing the movie with magic several times now. 

"So are they- are they enemies? Do they want to take over Albion?"

"I don't know, my love," he sighs, "some think they come in peace, some think they want to invade. When we get home, remind me to find my Star Trek box sets out from the office. You'll love it."

"Okay," Arthur smiles, pulling Merlin along as he skips further into the museum.

* * *

Before he knows it, they're in the planetarium, Arthur gazing up in wonder at the stars, Merlin gazing in wonder at Arthur. Moments later, the screen turns into footage of a rocket coming to launch, and, ignoring the commentator's explanation, Arthur turns a curious stare on Merlin, and opens him mouth to speak before abruptly closing it again.

"What is it?" Merlin prods, shoving his shoulder gently with his own.

"Oh- um, I just wondered- you know how you're not really... human?"

Merlin nods, confused.

"And you have special powers? And you're immortal?"

"Arthur," he huffs, "what are you getting at?"

"Well," Arthur blushes, "are _you_ an alien?"

Merlin cackles, attracting many glares from fellow visitors. Swallowing down the rest of his laughter, he tries to catch his breath. Arthur looks extremely affronted and it's reminiscent of an offended golden retriever finding out that he isn't, in fact, the best boy, and Merlin has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid choking on his own laughter again. 

"Honey," he rasps, running gentle fingers along the edge of Arthur's jaw, brushing a thumb over the corner of his lip, "I love you so much."

Something softens in Arthur's eyes then, and, despite his huffing, he leans against Merlin to stare at the stars when the screen switches back.

"It was a perfectly reasonable question," he grumbles, a few moments later.

Merlin likes to think his snort was very well disguised as a cough into his hand. He's probably wrong.

* * *

Merlin's joy dissipates almost instantaneously upon switching on the television that evening. Arthur watches the screen, horror in his eyes which Merlin is sure must be reflected in his own. The plague has spread. Nearly every continent in the world seems to have the same incurable disease running rampant throughout, with deaths rising by the second, and Merlin's powerless to stop it. 

"Can you-"

"I can't do healing magic, Arthur. We've been over this." His head drops onto the kitchen table, and he groans in anguish. He mutters a spell to make the table feel softer. It doesn't work. The confusion over his magic only contributes to his growing migraine.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispers, stroking his nest of hair with a loving hand. "How did it even start?"

"See, that's the thing. Nobody knows. It's almost as though it magically app-"

He breaks off, horrified. No. _No._ It can't be. Deep in his heart, however, he knows without any hint of doubt that it is definitely true. All magic comes with a price.


	5. the beauty in what is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's POV for this one folks. The Winter Solstice comes to Avalon, and to Glastonbury. Merlin thinks he's good at keeping secrets but Arthur has another informant.  
> Merlin Bingo Square #C1 'Seasons'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own BBC's Merlin or DC's Wonder Woman 1984.
> 
> If you ever read this, Gal Gadot, can we please get married?

Arthur's eyes flutter open, and he rubs at them with a lazy gesture. Despite the changing seasons, the sun is shining through the window in stark contrast with his glum mood. He takes a few moments to watch Merlin as he sleeps, noticing how the sorcerer loses all indications of his ever-present stress while unconscious, and how a peaceful and contented expression takes its place. He seems softer somehow. With the weight of the world on your shoulders, it must be impossible to ever feel completely at peace, Arthur reflects, and leaves Merlin sleeping soundly when he sneaks out of bed. He plans to find answers. Answers to Merlin's pinched expression last night when he shut off completely from Arthur's attempts at conversation, answers to how this plague appeared, answers to why he's back in the first place. Mostly importantly, he wants to know what Merlin's lying about. He curses himself for ever being oblivious to his lies in Camelot, because, he thinks, they're really quite obvious. 

_"It's nothing."_

_"Merlin, it's clearly not nothing!" Arthur huffed, trying to reach for his arm and pull him back into their forgotten embrace. "Is my reappearance- is it somehow linked to this plague?"_

_"Of course not!" Merlin spluttered, slamming out of the room and closing his bedroom door firmly behind him. Arthur noticed he didn't even try to close it with magic this time._

Arthur knows somehow that his time here was never meant to last, was never meant to happen at all. He's known it since he arrived, if he's being honest, but this past week with Merlin has been too full of wonder, too full of joy, too full of _love_ for him to want to think too hard on that fact. He turns the handle on the _shower,_ the wonderful invention which allows hot rain to fall from inside a glass box, and lets the water ease his muscles and his mind. The cold of winter is bitingly present in the air today, but in here he is warm and safe and free from responsibility for a few more minutes. Everything must end though, and, with a sigh, he climbs out, towelling himself dry and pulling on some clothes. He bought one of the absurdly tight tunics Merlin claims are in fashion in the 21st century yesterday from the Space Centre, and he grins proudly at the rocket design on his front. It suits him. He pulls on a jacket, and some of the modern bouncy shoes with the twisting, miniature ropes, and grabs the keys from Merlin's fruit bowl, before heading down to the lake.

_"Arthuuuuuuuur Pendraaaaaaagon"_

The voice tugs at him, pulling at his very core, leading him to the lake. He shivers, overcome with a feeling of unease, but pushes on anyway. The voice grows stronger as he approaches, and when he arrives at the edge of the water, he sees a figure immersed from the shoulders down, floating further out in the lake. She has a long and tangled web of hair, and it drips rivulets of water down her face. Nothing about her seems human, and there is the distinct sense that she belongs to a different world. He shivers again, and pulls his jacket tighter around him.

"Arthur Pendragon," she speaks, more clearly now but still softly. "Why are you here?"

"I need answers." 

"You already know the answers you seek."

"So it's true?" he asks, his heart sinking as his suspicions are confirmed. "It's my fault these people are dying?"

"Young king," she responds, a kind smile on her face, "it was not you who wished for this. Merlin is the one whose magic compelled Avalon to release you once more to the mortal world."

"He said- he told me that I was to return, when Albion's need was greatest. If it is my destiny to return, why does it come with such a price?" he begs, distraught.

"You are destined to return, this is true, but it was not yet your time to return. Albion does not have need of you yet, my king."

"And yet I am here."

The woman nods, her face growing harder. "You are here, but you shouldn't be. This has come with a price. Merlin's magic has been slowly draining. Avalon is taking it from him, and distributing it throughout this earth he inhabits, turning it into great misery and suffering for its citizens. The magic of Avalon must fill the hole left by your return. For a destiny as big as the one you and Merlin share, this requires a great many deaths."

"No," he whispers, broken, feeling a stray tear making its way down his cheek. "No! You can't- you can't _do_ this. Those people are innocent. They have lives, people who care about them. I'm supposed to return to save Albion, not to destroy the world."

"I know, Arthur," she sighs. "The tear in the fabric of Avalon can heal, and this damage can be reversed, but Merlin must first renounce his wish."

Arthur swallowed painfully. "And- and I will-"

"You will return to Avalon, yes."

"He will never agree to this," he protests, rubbing at the pain blooming behind his eyes. 

"Then he will damn humanity." 

With that, she disappears, leaving Arthur alone with his heartbreak and confusion. He screams, and keeps screaming extremely loudly until he can't scream anymore, before dropping to his knees in the grassy waterside. The grass is frosted over, and the crunch hurts his knees. He can't find the strength to care. Somehow he knows this wasn't intentional, because he knows Merlin could never do this on purpose. He helps people, he saves them. Arthur also acknowledges with grim certainty that, despite this, it will be impossible to get Merlin to let him go now that he has him back. Arthur isn't sure he could do it if the roles were reversed. Sighing heavily, he decides to give Merlin the Winter Solstice he's been looking forward to, and then they can talk.

* * *

"Where have you been? I thought you'd disappeared!" Merlin snaps, pottering grumpily around the kitchen.

Arthur grimaces apologetically, and comes up behind him, pulling him into his arms while he carries on buttering toast. "I'm sorry, my love. I couldn't get back to sleep and I wanted a nice winter walk."

Slightly mollified, Merlin offers him a mug of the strange flowery tea mixture he consumes each morning. He hasn't used his magic at all during the morning routine today, which Arthur tries hard to ignore. 

"Today is a busy day," Merlin says through a mouthful of toast, "and we need to be at the bookshop in an hour."

"It's going to be wonderful!" Arthur beams. 

"Tonight will be wonderful," Merlin corrects. "Today will be busy, and full of tourists. Are you going to help around the shop?"

"This morning, yes. I was going to explore the abbey this afternoon. Is that okay?" he checks, smiling hopefully at his sleepy lover.

"Yes, of course." Merlin leans in, kissing him lovingly, and a burst of affection soars through his heart for this wonderful man, who is so incredible and so power that he called him back into being by simply wishing it to be true. He isn't sure how he came to deserve him, but he's eternally grateful for this blissful reunion they've had.

"I love you," he whispers, pulling Merlin's hand to his mouth and placing a featherlight kiss on his knuckles, and running them lightly across his lips. "I love you so much. You are the most incredible person I've ever known, and I'm so lucky that I get to love you and be loved by you. I want you to remember that always."

Merlin flushes a deep red, especially his ears, and pulls away to clear up the plates, grumbling about soppy kings and emotional outbursts. Arthur can't help but giggle. He really does love this man.

"I love you too."

He looks up questioningly at the emotion in Merlin's voice.

"I love you too, so so much. Happy Solstice, my darling." 

And really, Arthur can't just let that go unanswered. They don't make it to the bookshop for another two hours. Merlin doesn't stop grumbling about it until noon, but Arthur doesn't think he minds too much really.

* * *

"What is it that happens during this Solstice, then?" he asks, sprawling lazily on the picnic blanket and under the duvet they brought down to the waterside from the house earlier that evening. Merlin is pressed along his side, with an arm thrown over his waist and his heading resting gently on Arthur's chest. 

"Well," Merlin begins, propping his chin up and staring into Arthur's eyes, "it's normally just the sunset and sunrise between the seasons, but tonight it's a very special one. The sky is so clear that we can apparently see Venus."

"Venus is a... planet?" Arthur checks, trying to remember everything from the Space Centre. 

Merlin nods. "Yep, the second closest to the sun after Mercury. The furthest away is-"

"It's Pluto, Merlin."

"Pluto isn't-"

"It's a planet," Arthur huffs, his pout firmly in place. "It deserves to be a planet. It's never done anything wrong in its life. Humans are stupid. Pluto is a planet."

"Okay, love." 

Arthur peers down at Merlin, who's smiling at him softly. Tomorrow is going to be painful. He pushes the thought from his head, and pulls the duvet closer around them both to protect from the gusts of cool wind coming from the water and from the winter air.

"There it is!" Merlin yelps, pointing up at the sky.

Arthur squints into the scattering of twinkling stars, and notices one shining much more brightly than the others. It's a little bigger than the rest of the stars, and it takes its place in the sky with pride. Arthur stares in wonderment. 

"It's incredible," he breathes. 

"It is," Merlin agrees. 

Arthur turns back to him, only to see that Merlin isn't looking at the sky, but down at him. A choked feeling appears in his throat, and he swallows down his mess of emotions and pulls Merlin into another kiss. They stay like that, wrapped safely in the warmth of each other, until well after midnight. As the seasons change, and the dawn of the new day approaches, Arthur feels the nerves in his stomach knot together even more harshly, but he knows this has to happen eventually.

"Merlin?" he mumbles, running a gentle touch down his warlock's face. 

"Mmm?" Merlin replies, sleepy and content.

"I know about the wish." 


	6. truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah lol get ready for angst sorry guys.
> 
> Merlin Bingo Square #C2 - 'Time Is Running Out'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything by the BBC or DC.  
> Sorry for the angst.

They haven't spoken in two whole days, and Merlin thinks his entire heart is being steadily ripped apart. There is nothing but echoes of the love between them, and he knows it's entirely his fault. He's condemning Arthur to stay alive and making him watch as the world pays the price for it, he knows that, but the alternative- it's unthinkable. To go on without him after just getting him back, after all these _centuries_ of waiting. He can't do it, and he knows Arthur will never forgive him for it. He wanders into the lounge, pushing the door open without magic. Since the explosive fight the morning after the Solstice, his magic has been gone entirely. No matter how basic the spell he tries, it will not work. He's going slowly insane. 

_"Thousands more have been reported dead,"_ informs a cold, official BBC voice from the kitchen, and Merlin winces, grateful he can't see Arthur's face yet. _"The disease reached British shores early this morning, and officials expect it won't be long before the United Kingdom is in a state of crisis."_

Bracing himself, he turns the corner. Arthur doesn't look angry, like he expected, he just looks crushed, like it's causing him physical pain to see the disaster Merlin is causing. 

"Arthur," he pleads hopefully, imploring him to understand. 

Arthur shakes his head, sighing heavily. "No, Merlin. There is nothing you can say that will ever make this acceptable." He switches off the television with a resigned look on his face, and pushes away from the table and out of the kitchen. 

"Wait!" Merlin hurries after him, grabbing at his arm, but he is shaken off.

Whirling around, Arthur turns a furious glare on him. "For what? For you to kill more people? Merlin, this isn't _love._ You cannot do this in the name of loving me. You do not hurt the ones you love, you do not make them responsible for killing the very people they swore to protect!"

Merlin exhales shakily, and blinks back tears. "I know. I know that- I just- it's been so long. I've been alone for _so long_."

He folds in on himself, sinking down beside the wall and burying his sobs in his knees. A moment later, he feels warm, strong arms wrap around him, keeping him safe from the endless hole of pain crawling up from inside him to swallow him whole. 

"Hey," Arthur whispers gently, lifting his chin with a loving hand. "I know. I don't want to leave you again, I don't- gods, Merlin, I don't want to lose _this._ I don't want you to be alone for another millennium. You know I don't want that. But Merlin, my love, we have to save these people."

"But why must we? Why can't I have this one thing? You're the only joy I've ever had or even asked for!" Merlin snaps petulantly, hiding his face in the crook of Arthur's neck, and wiping his tears on the edge of his shirt. 

"I don't think we have a choice," Arthur mumbles, lifting Merlin's face again and wiping away his tears with an expert hand. "Even if we do have a choice, we have to choose them. We will have our time, but you know it's not meant to be now." 

Merlin nods, unable to speak, and clings desperately to the only man he'll ever love, knowing that he has to let him go again. That he'll be alone again. Slowly, the arms around him disappear, and Arthur stands up, offering Merlin a hand. He takes it hesitantly, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Arthur presses the house keys into his hand, and firmly clasps the other one, threading his fingers through Merlin's.

"For the love of Camelot?" he tries, shoving Merlin gently with his free hand. 

"For the love of Camelot," Merlin agrees croakily, and pulls open the door. 

The entirety of the walk down to the lake is spent in harrowing silence, but Arthur's hand is warm in his own, and he clings to it with everything he has left. He needs to remember this, needs to commit the feel of Arthur's fingers interlocking with his own to his memory, needs to keep it safe there to help him through however long he will have to wait this time. He lets his eyes roam as he stumbles along with his king, trailing them first along Arthur's beautiful golden crown of hair, and his strong and kind face, then travelling down to the arms which he is going to be desperately lonely without, because the only uninterrupted sleep he's had in centuries has been with his lover's arms around him. He finally lets them trail back up to those beautiful eyes, to those lips. He knows they will kiss before Arthur leaves, but he needs to remember what they look like, needs to remember how they can tear both his soul and his body apart. 

"I love you," he announces, his voice cracking as they come to a halt beside the lake. "I love you more than I will ever love anything or anyone. I love you more than this whole world, and I would gladly sacrifice it all for you if you would let me, but I know you won't. I will never love again."

"I pray that isn't true!" Arthur cries, gripping his shoulders tightly. "There's a world out there, Merlin. Make friends. See the world. Explore. _Live._ You need this world as much as it needs you, and you can't stop living when I do." 

"I-I can't-" he sobs, shaking his head wildly.

"Merlin, please," Arthur's own voice cracks, heavy with emotion, "I need you to live for me. There will never be a time when I do not love you, wherever I am, be that here or Avalon or Pluto! I'm always yours, Merlin, but you can't just belong to me. This world needs you now. You need to save it. For me."

"Okay." He isn't sure how he manages to agree to it, but he does. 

Arthur breathes out in relief. "Thank you, my love." 

Merlin drags him into a kiss, and he's going to make this the best kiss of his whole life, because it's going to see him through until they can do it again, which they _will_ if he has anything to say about it. He runs his tongue across the edge of Arthur's lower lip, and softly bites down, eliciting a low moan and a shiver from his darling king. He winds a hand into Arthur's hair, running his fingers through it, feeling every strand of golden softness and committing it to memory. He pulls away from the kiss, heaving in a deep breath, and peppers light touches along Arthur's jaw with his mouth. It is worshipping in a way, the way one would worship the thing they loved most in the world if it were about to be taken from them. It is a final goodbye, a promise, and a thank you. 

"Thank you for being the only thing worth wishing for," he whispers in Arthur's ear, and sags into him as they share once final embrace.

"Thank you for giving me this time with you," Arthur whispers in return. 

They pull apart, both of them teary-eyed. 

"I love you. I will always love you," Arthur promises.

"And I you," Merlin gasps, then closes his eyes so he can do the impossible. "I renounce my wish."

When he opens his eyes, Arthur is gone. 

* * *

The magic of Avalon senses Emrys. It knows he is crying softly on the grassy banks, and every sob hurts the very fibres of its being just as it hurts the man himself. There will be another four hundred years before the young king will be reunited with his warlock, and in that moment the magic of Avalon decides that this judgement is too harsh. Reaching out past the lake, it runs caringly around him, trying to comfort him with a gust of wind and the reassurance of magic. 

_"Emrys,"_ it whispers, _"your king can return in one year, if you are willing to pay the price for it."_

"No! No. He- I can't. I can't hurt anyone else. You have to bring them all back, everyone who died because of me. The hole is filled. The balance- you need to fix it. I want- I can't have him."

 _"All who were sacrificed were returned to their families when your magic returned to you and your king returned to Avalon,"_ it reassures him, swirling around him much more slowly now. _"The world will not pay the price, should you agree. It is only yours. Only you can decide and only you will bear the consequences."_

Wild blue eyes snap up to stare at the nothingness. 

"I'm listening."


	7. lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy ending y'all deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own BBC's or DC's characters or franchises and I'm not affiliated at all.

Merlin wakes exactly one year later, and hurriedly gets dressed. He doesn't bother making his Earl Grey or his toast that morning, and throws out a burst of magic to shut the door behind him as he runs down to the lake. He arrives just as the water begins to ripple and churn, and slowly, a golden head emerges. Arthur is barely out of the water when he launches himself into his arms, nearly knocking him back in. 

"Merlin!" Arthur splutters, catching himself at the last moment, and managing to throw up his arms to hold Merlin in place. "How did you know I'd be here? What's going on? How long have I been away this time?"

"I love you," Merlin grins, and starts pressing kisses all over Arthur's face, including his adorable nose, which is scrunched up in confusion. "I love you I love you I love you I love you..."

"Merlin!" Arthur chuckles, pulling away. "I love you too. What- what's going on?"

"It's been a year," Merlin tells him, pulling him out of the lake and enveloping him in the warm towel he only just remembered to bring with him as he rushed out of the house. "I travelled the world. I made friends. I have a lot of friends now actually, since I started giving talks at the abbey. I successfully prevented three major wars, volunteered for political campaigns, travelled to Greece- did you know I hadn't been to Greece? It's lovely! They have these little spinach pastries-"

"I love you," Arthur breathes, his face blossoming into a grin as he pulls Merlin into his arms. "I'm so proud of you! You did it! I can't believe they only kept me for one year, that's amazing."

Merlin hums noncommittally, and starts toward the cottage, but Arthur stops him with a firm hand and an accusing stare.

"What did you do?" he demands.

"W-what?"

"I know you, Merlin. What. Did. You. Do?" he asks again.

"I- ugh, _fine_. The magic of Avalon gave me a choice when you left. I could wait four hundred years for you, or I could wait one."

"Merlin!" Arthur hisses, furious. "What have you done? Who's dying this time?"

"Me."

Arthur lets go of his arm, stumbling back as though struck, his face growing pale. "What?"

"Not- I'm not _dying_ ," he corrects, pulling at Arthur's arm until he relents and allows himself to be drawn back in. "I'm not ill. I'm just- I'm aging! I'm no longer immortal. The magic of Avalon promised that, should I agree to tie my life force to yours, with the condition that I will die whenever you die- uh, this time around, there will be no other price."

"You can't do this! You can't die for me, Merlin."

"Arthur, it's done. I'm not dying for you. I am so tired. I've lived in this world for so long now, and it is too long for any man to live for. I have all I could ever want. I get a normal lifetime with you, and then I get to rest with you and our friends in Avalon. I want this. Please."

Arthur's eyes soften, and he grudgingly nods his head, threading his fingers through Merlin's just as he had a year ago. He pulls Merlin's hand to his lips, and presses a gentle kiss to the centre.

"Well then," he grins, "let's go live our lives." 


End file.
